Bound for Glory
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: John Cena/Michael Cole. Cena finds his lover locked in a broom closet, bound and blindfolded. He wants to comfort his baby, but at the same time, a vulnerable Michael Cole is an once-in-a-lifetime discovery… Please Review!


**Title:** Bound for Glory

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s): **John Cena/Michael Cole

**Summary:** Cena finds his lover locked in a broom closet, bound and blindfolded. He wants to comfort his baby, but at the same time, a vulnerable Michael Cole is an once-in-a-lifetime discovery…

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash

**A/N:** Michael Cole annoys me _so_ much. Seriously, I think he is the only one who condones the GM's treatment of CM Punk, Big Show (that was so sad…), and John Cena. He abuses his power and is such a freakin' ego-maniac it isn't even funny. I can't wait until the GM's match with John Cena so the WWE can return to normal!

**OOOO**

Michael Cole sobbed softly as his wide, brown eyes flickered around behind the veil of a bandana. From what he knew of the time before he was blindfolded, he knew that he was in a closet of some sort. Other than that, he did not know what part of the stadium he was in, or even what time it was. His hands were bound behind his back with a set of handcuffs from the arena and there was a dark bandana over his eyes. The stick from what he believed was a fallen broom cut into the small of his back, but when he tried to move forward, he ran into one of the walls. It turned out this closet was smaller than he had first believed.

He didn't even know who had attacked him. All he knew was that he was on his way to the arena with Jerry Lawler and Josh Mathews, when all of a sudden the other two men had vanished and he was all alone. He had tried to scream, but some sort of cloth had been stuffed in his mouth. At least he had been able to spit that out after he was stuffed into the closet. Cole shifted uncomfortably as more tears streaked down his face. If he wasn't so hated, maybe someone would have noticed the fact that his seat was vacant by now… or maybe they _had_ noticed, and they didn't care. He cursed silently, but he knew that no-one would hear him.

It was a well-known fact that Cole didn't like to feel vulnerable. His holier-than-thou mindset didn't allow for it. He was a heel commentator that took shit from ninety-nine percent of the WWE roster _and_ the WWE Universe on a daily basis. He could stand to be torn down, verbally assaulted (and physically assaulted on rare occasions), and dominated. Because the domination wasn't violent. He knew that John loved him, and, in turn, he trusted John with his life, his health, and his body. And even then, they had never ventured into the darker side of sexual fantasy. It made Cole extremely uncomfortable, even with how much he trusted John, and John understood.

Cole shifted around and sniffled emotively. It had to have been a half-hour that he had been locked in there now, and he had started to become more than a little uncomfortable. But now, he heard footfalls outside the door. He yelled as loud as he could, but his cries were met with silence. Just when he feared that he would be locked in there until the end of his show, when his attacker would (hopefully) come to free him, the door opened and the man on the other side stared down at him curiously. He bent down and touched Cole's face softly, and Cole would know that touch anywhere. It was his lover, John Cena.

"Michael, baby, what the hell happened to you?" John asked tenderly as his hands snaked around the back of Cole's head to remove the bandana from around his eyes. "Please don't cry, sweetie. Tell me what happened."

"I-I-I don't know." Cole tried hard to control the tremors in his voice, but failed miserably. "I w-was with Jerry and Josh, and then s-someone attacked me, and l-locked me in h-here."

Cena nodded. "Okay, baby. It'll be okay. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"My a-arms are a-awfully sore." Cole confessed, almost embarrassed to admit his weakness.

Carefully, Cena made Cole lean forward. When he saw the handcuffs that bound the smaller man's wrists, he shook his head. "You're wrists are so raw, baby. I'll need the bolt cutters to take them off."

Cena rose and started to walk away, but Cole's eyes widened. "No! Don't… don't leave me. Please."

"Don't your arms hurt?" John asked. Cole nodded affirmatively. "I can't fix that without the bolt cutters."

"I know that. I just… I don't know how much time I've been in here, and I don't want to be left alone again. Please… just come and sit with me." Cole pleaded softly.

Cena nodded, sympathy for his terrified lover obvious in his clouded blue eyes. "Of course, Michael."

The muscular brunette slid the commentator to the side, before he climbed into the small nook beside him. John curled his arm around Cole's shoulder and ushered the smaller man to rest his head on his shoulder. Cole's body continued to tremble with unrestrained sobs, and all the while, he softly stroked the man's back. He tried to convey all of the love he felt for Cole in the subtle movement, but it didn't seem to break into the hard shell that Cole had built around his heart in the hour that he had been in the closet. So, John did the first thing that came to mind. He kissed the smaller man.

His lips slowly slid over Michael's, his left hand gently stroking Michael's soft face. All of a sudden, the tears stopped flowing from the dark brown eyes. Cole started to return the kiss, his movements hesitant but filled with as much love as John's. For a moment, he totally forgot about the fact that his arms were bound behind his back. Slowly, he climbed onto John's muscular body and made himself comfortable on the man's lap. He could feel little Cena straining through the thick material of his blue jean shorts. Gently, he thrust down onto Cena's erection. It was only when he went to wrap his arms around Cena's shoulders that he remembered the handcuffs.

Cena's eyes slowly fluttered and he took in the look of terror on Cole's face. "Baby? Are you okay?" Cole's dark brown eyes slid closed. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No." Cole took a breath, before he rolled his hips down onto Cena's once more. "I _want_ this, Johnny. _Please_."

"I won't hurt you, sweetie." Cena comforted him softly as he undid the tie from around Cole's neck and tossed it aside, and then he started in on the buttons of Cole's pristine white dress shirt. "I'll take care of you."

Gently, Cena's mouth latched onto Cole's pale chest. Tears slowly streaked down Cole's face. "I know that."

Cena saw this and stopped. "Are you sure about this, Mike?"

Cole was silent for a minute, and after a minute, Cena was afraid that he had really reconsidered. But Cole leaned in closer and let out a soft moan as John's mouth brushed the sensitive area between his navel and his erect cock. "Yeah. I'm sure."

John nodded, before he undid Cole's belt and the button of his pants, sliding them down his hips and off of his lithe body. Carefully, he shifted the commentator so that he was on his back and spread his thighs as far as he could in the small area. He pressed three fingers to Cole's lips, and when they breached the soft barrier, Cole laved the long digits. Once each was coated thoroughly, John pulled them out and pressed one finger to Cole's entrance. The commentator twitched when the handcuffs started to cut into his wrists, but otherwise he didn't move at all. John slowly inserted two more digits, scissoring them until he was sure that he was properly stretched.

Cole let out a soft moan as the digits were removed from his entrance, before John undid his belt and the button of his jean shorts, lowering them just enough to reveal his leaking erection. Leaning in closer, he kissed Cole softly before lining up with Cole's entrance and tentatively pushing the head past that first tight ring of muscle. No matter how many times they had sex, Cole was still as tight as he had been the first time. The commentator moaned sweetly, his back arching and his hands twitching with the desire to touch his lover. But he couldn't because the damn handcuffs were in his way.

Once John was in balls-deep, he paused. Touching his forehead to Cole's reassuringly, he slowly started to pull out until only the head remained, and then thrust back in. He started a fast and brutal pace, pounding into the smaller man as hard as he could without hurting his baby. Tears continued to streak down the commentator's face as Cena searched around for his prostate, the feeling of being stretched one that would he would never become accustomed to. But then, he found it. The head of Cena's erection stabbed at Cole's prostate, causing starts to dance in front of Cole's eyes.

"Fuck, baby…" John moaned loudly, continuing to hammer into Cole's abused entrance. "I'm so fucking close baby. Don't worry, Mike, I'll take you there…"

John's hand wrapped around Cole's erection and started to pump in time with his thrusts. "Shit," Cole breathed out.

"Does it feel good, baby?" John asked, before he bit down on the most sensitive area of Cole's neck.

"Ah… _fuck_, can't…" Cole moaned wantonly as he released all over John's stomach.

At the sight of Cole releasing, John tumbled over the edge as well. He filled Cole to the brim with his hot seed, before he pulled out and caused it to trickle down the man's legs. Cena leaned in and kissed him softly, carefully redressing his boyfriend in case someone came to investigate all of the noise. Once Michael was dressed, John started to dress himself. Immediately, he knew that he would need to find those bolt cutters and free Cole's arms. He could see the small flicker of pain in Cole's eyes, and it made his heart clench. So, he leaned down and kissed the man's forehead. He came to the conclusion that, later on, he would have Cole soak in a warm bath and rub all of his aches away…

**OOOO**

Later that night, John lay stretched out on their bed in the hotel room, Cole's smaller body curled into his side. A warm towel was wrapped around his back and shoulders to ward off the aches. John had never found who was responsible for tying Michael up and locking him in the closet, but, somehow, it didn't matter anymore. It had helped Cole to overcome his fear of handcuffs, and John was almost thankful to whoever had done the deed. _Almost_. There were other ways to make Cole around. This way had likely traumatized him for life. But it hadn't seemed that way when he had asked for round two once they had returned to the hotel room…

And, of course, there was still the matter of the letter. He had found the letter taped to the back of the door to their hotel room, obviously meant to be found after Cole had been accounted for. John carefully shifted, not wanting to disturb his sleeping lover, and took it out from where he had hidden it under the pillow. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but he doubted that he would. He really didn't pay that much attention to the other stars to know their handwriting by heart. He read it over once, before his eyes flickered over to Cole. And then, without a second thought, he tossed it at the foot of the bed. He then burrowed down beside his lover and fell asleep.

**John –**

**I hope you enjoyed your little present. Trust me when I say that you have a feisty one on your hands. The little brat is actually kinda cute when he cries. Don't worry, I didn't do anything to him. I saved that all for you. I'm sure that the entire WWE Universe will enjoy the fruits of my labor tomorrow on SmackDown. Until then, have fun! Hopefully, you managed to remove the stick from his ass before it hit his brain and did some **_**serious**_** damage.**

**Love,**

**XXXXXXXXX**

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Well, that's the story. I really like this one. Like I said before, I'm not a big fan of Michael Cole, so this was a bit of a challenge. You can use your imagination to figure out who tied him up :)

Please Review!


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